


wherever you stray, i follow

by waterbottle_stickers



Category: Enola Holmes (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Is Sleep Deprived, F/F, Not Canon Compliant, Tewksbury is a theater kid, author does not care for historical accuracy, dinner party probably, enola is an oblivious gay, enola swears a lot in her inner monologue, fem!Tewksbury, gratuitous descriptions of flowers, historical conceptions of gender? pshh, idk we’re winging it, other characters probably - Freeform, tewksbury is a bisexual disaster, why am i posting this at 12:53 am
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbottle_stickers/pseuds/waterbottle_stickers
Summary: The more that you say, the less I knowWherever you stray, I followI'm begging for you to take my handWreck my plans, that's my manYou know that my train could take you homeAnywhere else is hollowI'm begging for you to take my handWreck my plans, that's my man- willow (Taylor Swift)
Relationships: Enola Holmes/Viscount "Tewky" Tewksbury
Comments: 13
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hi this is my first time posting something to ao3, and not going to lie I’m a bit nervous lol. This fic was kind of born out of spite, the movie is lovely but unfortunately my brain won’t quit yelling at me “ENOLA COULD’VE BEEN GAY! THAT COULD’VE BEEN COOL! DJSBJBFJDBJBDSNJC RAINBOW” for some reason ://

Having successfully boarded the train, Enola Holmes walked briskly from the window to a carriage about half way down the car. Grabbing the worn metal handle, she slid open the door and surveyed the small but comfortable space. The sides of the room fit a bench each, padded with red cushioning. A large window directly across from Enola held the portrait of an almost blurred countryside. One, if not being of exactly a great mental fortitude, might assume that the land itself was moving, although clearly that was not the case.

After pausing a second, Enola stepped into this little world, ready to begin phase two of her journey: _Take the train to London to get to mum, and absolutely NO distractions,_ she thought. Enola needed to find her mother, and she needed to do so efficiently and with discretion. After, she could get this whole boarding school-brother mess dealt with and that would be that.

Settling herself on the left bench, Enola paused again and took stock of her surroundings as she slid off her tawny plain jacket. It would be inconvenient to get comfortable in a carriage and then be discovered by a returning carriage mate who had left their baggage unattended.

In her surveillance of the space, Enola noticed a dingy carpet bag resting atop the baggage shelf opposite to her. Strangely enough, the bag seemed to be excessively large, spreading across the entire shelf. _Even stranger, it appears to be moving…? What in the -_

A pocket knife was tearing through the fabric, a pale hand moved frantically in uneven strokes working to open the bag. Apparently having decided not to rip the entire ensemble, the hand began working to open the clasp holding the whole affair shut.  
Enola by this point was effectively frozen, not daring to do anything other than sit rigidly and wait for the outcome. _Is this seriously happening? I am on a mission to find my own mother and there is seriously a person in a bag in the carriage I chose that has a knife! What in the absolute -_

In a manner that was certainly too fast to be comfortable, a person in a bundle of fabrics, scratch that, a girl wrapped in a painful amount of fabric, fell out of the shelf and onto the carpeted floor. “Oomf! Well that was unpleasant- Oh God, who are you?”

The girl was now sitting upright, her yellow dress embroidered with flowers at the edges, rumpled in an unseemly manner, and spread out over the floor. She had a sweet, heart-shaped face, dotted with freckles in places, and dark hair pinned up in a bun that likely wouldn’t last much longer due to the jostling it had received during the fall. Well, she would have had a sweet face if she wasn’t glaring at Enola like it was her fault she fell out of a dusty carpet bag and landed six feet down on the hard floor.

“Who am I? No, no,” Enola stared at the girl in disbelief. “No, who are you?! You know what? Never mind. Get out of this carriage immediately!”

“Well that’s not how a gentleman should treat a lady,” the girl grumbled, looking down at the tangled mass of fabric she sat entwined by. Turning abruptly to Enola, she stared for a moment, then began to smirk. “You’re not a gentleman, are you my good sir?” the girl reached back to the bench, pushing herself up from the floor. Keeping eye contact with Enola, she said, “So what are you on the run fro- OMPH!” And yet again the mystery girl was on the floor, having tripped over her own skirts.

“Certainly not you, as clumsiness seems to be a defining trait of yours. Now get out of this carriage!”

“Pff, so rude. Now who are you again and why, exactly, do I have to listen to you?” _This girl is insufferable,_ Enola thought.

“None of your business. There is a man in a brown bowler hat following you and it would not be in my interest in the slightest to get caught up with whatever circus you have going on here, so if you would please just leave this carriage - ”

“Circus? I’m not the one wearing boy’s clothes, may I remind you! And if you so desperately don't want to be around me, then leave yourself!” At this point the girl had escalated into what was sure to become a full on yelling match if the conversation was allowed to continue, and Enola had had enough. _Might as well take the pompous-carpet-bag-knife-girl’s advice,_ Enola concluded, so she grabbed her jacket and left.

Glad to be free of the yelling yellow dressed nutterhead, she walked swiftly down the hall, thinking of where to head next. In the fresh distraction of finding a new seating area, Enola failed to notice the strange man in the mud-colored bowler hat rushing down the hallway until he bumped into her side. The man kept moving, but Enola stiffened for a moment, pausing by the fourth or so door down from the carriage she had left. She looked back, catching the man as he forcefully entered her old carriage, the one where the girl was now. His trenchcoat remained flying behind him for a second, but then he was gone.

_This is not my problem,_ Enola breathed in through her nose, eyeing the door to the next car. _This is not my problem and I have to find mum and I can’t get off track and I can’t get caught and her leaving can’t all be for nothing and I can’t -_

A muffled scream cut through Enola’s thoughts. _This isn’t right, something is really not right._ A crash came from behind her, followed by pleading yell. _I can’t get off course though, I need to find her, I need to -_ Another scream this time. _I can’t -_

“SOMEONE HELP ME!”

Enola whipped around. _Mum would have helped,_ the thought pressed into her consciousness like a dull knife. Her mind made up, she sprinted down the window lined hall.

Bursting open the door, Enola hesitated. _Wait where is she, oh son of a- WINDOW! THE WINDOW!_ The girl was hanging on to the open window, barely holding on as the assailant tried to grab her from the outside of the moving train. The window, it turns out, was actually very much a door and Enola was quickly realizing the girl wasn’t going to be hanging on for much longer.

Turning to the other aspect of the situation, Enola sized up the man currently causing the dilemma. Bowler hat guy was also leaning out the window, as he was the one attempting to grab arrogant yellow dress girl. Enola wasn’t keen on calling attention to herself from either of them; so when she hit the man with the walking stick he had dropped, it was a stealthy maneuver.

Evil trench coat man fell like a sack of potatoes.

Truth be told, it was pretty satisfying to haul off and wack someone. It was also pretty satisfying that the someone happened to be a man. What was with men anyways? Enola had never had any men around growing up, all with the “No, I’m making the decisions Enola!”, and the “You’re going to boarding school now Enola!” and don’t forget the “Our Mother is crazy Enola! She left you Enola!”

“UM HELLO!? I’M ABOUT TO DIE, HELLO??!”

_Oh fuck right -_ “Grab my hand!” Enola sprinted across the cart, not caring that her boot definitely squished the arm on the floor. She held tight to the inside wall, reaching out to the screaming girl. The green of the forest blurred past and Enola honed in on the girl, her dress whipping against the door as she frantically clasped her hand.

The girl met her eyes, pleading in the seconds unsure of safety. Flecks of brown in dappled green circles filled her vision, blending with the landscape.

Enola tensed as she pulled the girl back in the carriage, her muscles straining against the force of moving air. Muscles which must have miscalculated because before Enola could regain control of her momentum, the girl collided with her. The weight of her toppled Enola from her position at the edge of the carriage to the floor, and the two landed with a thump.  
The girl’s eyes filled her vision again, and it took Enola a moment to realize the girl had landed squarely on top of her.

“Whoops, ah, sorry” the girl chuckled nervously. She pushed off the floor, rolling away from Enola. Her hair fell in her face, covering _a- a slight blush? Weird…_ Enola noticed.

“Thanks for that, um, I… yeah.” The girl stood up and smoothed out her dress, turning back to her awkward savior. Enola herself laid stunned a bit, looking at the girl. Saving someone from falling out of a moving train was a bit of a hassle.

“You…” the girl breathed, glancing quickly to the ceiling then back at Enola. “You might want to get up, there’s still the man who attacked me on the floor there. Which, by the way, thanks for knocking him out?”

_Oh shoot yup evil bowler man,_ Enola hastily rose, practically jumping away from her dangerous victim. She brushed her hands off on her trousers, reorienting herself in the now very open carriage, complete with a gaping hole and a concerned, messy haired girl. Also complete with a groaning, waking up, crazy person.

“Alright we need to get out of here, you’re coming with me, yellow dress lady,” Enola grumbled.

The girl looked as stunned as Enola had on the floor. “What? I thought you didn’t want to be around me!”

“Change of plans, your evil bowler hat assailant man is waking up; we need to go!” Enola grabbed the girl’s wrist and began sprinting into the hall, tugging her along.

“But I don’t- AH!” The girl screamed sharply as a swollen red hand snatched the tail end of her skirt. She pulled away fast, and soon she and Enola were running up the train cart leaving the man behind for the moment.

Within seconds of their escape to the next car, they heard a crash behind and caught a glimpse of the trench coated menace hurriedly stalking their way.

“Go, go, go!” Enola yelled, pulling the girl with her.

They switched carts twice before they reached the bridge to the engine. The heat from the burning fuel hit Enola, mingling with the wind. A hand gripped her shoulder and Enola nearly leapt from the train right then and there.

“Relax! It’s me! ‘Evil bowler hat assailant man’ isn’t here yet,” the girl huffed, leaning into Enola as she tried to get a better view. Up ahead was an arched bridge that spanned a yawning river. A strip of field covered the hill just before the structure, blots of purple and buttery yellow wild flowers dotting the hillside.

“He’s coming, we have to jump before the river. That way we’ll lose him,” Enola said, nodding her head as she calculated where best to jump ship.

Despite her sound logic, the girl did not find Enola’s plan at all favorable. “Are you crazy?! I was just about to fall out of this speeding lump of God-forsaken metal, and now you want to voluntarily jump out of it?!”

“Well, it’s not like we have a choice! Believe me, I’d rather not catapult myself out a train either, but if we aim for right there - ” Enola never got to point out her preferred landing spot because at that moment the two heard the car door being wretched open.

“GO! GO!” hesitant no longer, the girl grabbed Enola and leaped off the train.

A mess of limbs and fabric, they tumbled down the meadow, rolling to a stop in the tall grass. For a moment, Enola wasn’t sure they had made it. That worry was whisked away though when the girl startled giggling.

“We lost him, I can’t believe we really... Oh gosh,” another fit of giggles arose, and the girl nearly doubled over, bunching up her skirts as she pointed to the train crossing the bridge. Enola watched the puff of the engine move across the chasm, a figure leaning from the front cabin. She let the relief of success wash over her, relaxing her shoulders and falling into the grass beside the girl.

“So, whom may I thank for my daring rescue?” The girl sat up, hands behind her back supporting her weight as she turned toward Enola. The periwinkle cornflowers popped against her dress, and the daisies melted into it. _She looks like she fits in one of those Impressionist paintings,_ Enola thought. _Wait, where did that come from -_

“Hmm? Helllloooo?”

“Oh, uh, Enola. Enola Holmes.”

The girl blinked, then smiled a bit, “Holmes, hmm? Lovely. The Viscount Tewksbury, Marquess of Basilwether, at your service. Tewksbury’s fine though.”

It was Enola’s turn to blink and smile a bit.

“Lovely.”

* - * - * - *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again :)) hope u enjoyed reading, please leave a comment if you can, i’ve heard they’re author fuel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do we have to talk more?”
> 
> “Well we’ll be traveling together for at least the next twelve hours, so I’d say yes."

It had taken a moment, but the girls decided their best course of action was to head towards London; their shared destination before the impromptu train jump. 

Wandering through the English countryside may not be what either had planned, and it for sure was not what either wanted, but in spite of it all, neither could ignore their fascination with the landscape. Flora breathed life into the rolling hills, and Tewksbery knew the names of just about every plant they encountered. Green fields filled with pillowy Queen Anne’s Lace, Cornflower, Chicory, and Lady’s Bedstraw. Hillsides dotted with Downy Birch, grass appearing as painted strokes of golden in the late day sun. 

The travel reminded Enola of her and her mother’s hikes. The winding journeys through the countryside they would take, her mother knowing every turn, every mark, of their path. No leaf had been left unexamined, no stone left unturned, no insect ignored. A flock of birds moving in formation across the sky could be cause for an hour long discussion The camouflage of a squirrel against the pine could be the topic of conversation at dinner. No question was too big or too small; Enola’s mother was determined to show her daughter the knowledge of the natural world. Scientific observation was the game, and they were enthusiastic players.

_I’ll find you Mom. I have your clues, I’m coming._

“So. What are you running from?” The girl at Enola’s side asked, much too jolly considering they had been walking for more than a few hours. 

“Oh right. You’re here as well. Haven’t you heard of privacy? That’s not really your business.” Enola walked on, looking from Tewksbury to the ground. They had found one of the farm roads that crisscrossed the countryside and the dirt way was a bit muddy.

“Oh so you _are_ running away,” Enola scoffed, she didn’t know the half of it. “Must have rained yesterday. I know, it’s terrible, the hem of my dress is beyond presentability.” A pause. “Presentable, I mean. Um, so…”

“Do we have to talk more?”

“Well we’ll be traveling together for at least the next twelve hours, so I’d say yes. What happened? You weren’t so standoffish an hour ago.”

“An hour ago I wasn’t hungry! You know, some of us had important destinations on the train that you got us kicked off of! Speaking of which, you still haven’t thanked me for saving your life! I should have just left you- Mrghhh!” Enola kicked one of the field stones logged in the mud.

“Thank _you_? No, I’m the one who got us off that train. You should thank _me_ for shoving you off before that mad man caught us.” Enola couldn’t tell if Tewksbury was teasing her or not. _People are so confusing and I’m fucking hungry._ Sarcasm or no, Tewksbury continued; “You know, if you were so hungry, you could’ve just told me earlier. It’s not like we’re without food.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, are you up for wild mushrooms?” Tewksbury hitched up her skirt and stepped into the grass. She hunched over, hair falling in a bedraggled curtain. 

“Pfft ugh,” she spluttered, and then reached to push her hair back behind her ear. “Can’t see a dratted thing - oh! Here we are!” 

She trudged forward and plopped down in the grass, waving Enola over. “Agaricus campestris, Field Mushrooms. Best eaten cooked, but we’ll be fine either way. Oh! And clover! Trifolium repens, if you were wondering.” 

“No, I wasn’t,” _I am wondering how she knows the scientific classification though? She doesn’t seem the type..._

“If you’re so hungry, then quit being contrary and get over here. These plants aren’t going to eat themselves,” Tewksbury called. Enola sighed and made her way over to her annoyingly reasonable companion and her findings.

  
  


* * * * *

  
  


It was getting dark out and the girls had foraged enough to tide over their hunger, collecting in excess for later. Tewksbury had surprisingly large pockets cleverly sewn into her dress (“Where else would I store things?” she had told Enola, affronted at the question), and Enola was enjoying the more obvious pockets of her trousers. _Why didn’t I ever add pockets to my dresses? I’m sure Mom’s probably done that at some point, I’ll have to ask her._

By the time the first star was visible, the two had wandered to the edge of a forest and set up camp. Enola had made a small fire, clearing the ground of brush and creating a pit surrounded by field stones. She’d borrowed Tewksbury’s knife to start it, striking the knife against a hard rock and catching the spark. 

“Why, again, do you have a knife?” Enola asked. 

“Well, for one it’s important to have the right tools for cutting plant samples; and two, my grand plan involved ripping open a bag.” Tewksbury answered, picking at one of the mushrooms she had speared and roasted on a stick. “Told you they’re better cooked,” she said, smiling at Enola.

_I doubt mushrooms taste any different cooked or not, they’re still unfortunately mushrooms,_ thought Enola, remembering the rubbery taste from earlier. 

“We are quite literally camping in the woods, eating off of sticks, and you’re eating like a lady.” Enola’s sour mood hadn’t exactly left, and Tewksbury’s persistence in being annoyingly upbeat wasn’t helping. _Her dumb smiling isn’t helping either. Why is she so happy anyways?_

“Would you rather I not eat like a lady?” Tewksbury smirked, eyes twinkling in the bobbing firelight. “What would that even entail? It’s not like I’m not a lady -”

“That’s not what - ” Enola huffed. She reached for another mushroom, resettling herself next to the fire. The ground was bare with little sprigs of plant life popping up next to the trees surrounding them. (“Aspens, Populus tremula,” Tewksbury had labeled the trees earlier).

Enola decided to redirect the conversation, _I need to know exactly who I’m dealing with here,_ she reasoned. “You asked what I was running from earlier, what about your situation? What are you running from?” 

Tewksbury scoffed, “What am I running from? Where’d you get that ridiculous notion?” 

Well you were being chased by a fucking knife murderer, so you tell me, is what Enola would have liked to say. However, she went the more subtle route, and landed on “You asked me first, so escaping something must be on your mind.” 

“So it wasn’t the knife murderer that tipped you off?” 

“I was trying to be diplomatic! For the love of God, you are so _difficult_ _-_ ”

“All right, all right, don’t get your trousers all in a twist! Why, again, are you wearing trousers?”

“That’s not even the expression! It’s don’t get your knickers - ”

“Answer the question Enola _Holmes_.” Tewksbury smiled like she was winning something. “I’ll tell you what dangers I’m avoiding in my precarious situation if you tell me what awaits you in yours. Fair trade detective, don’t you think?”

Enola huffed again. She was getting quite tired of huffing. “I really should have given you an alias.”

“But ‘chya didn’t,” Tewksbury said, side eyeing Enola over the mushroom kebab she was chowing down on. “Laudy like enougch ‘or choo ‘ow Mz. Ho-llmmez?” _Oh God what the fuck, why,_ Enola face planted into her hands. Tewksbury had taken her comment to an unsophisticated level and was talking mouth open full of food, hunched over her knees, leaning into the warmth of the fire. Her yellow dress was illuminated in the glow, but any pristine, up-right quality Tewksbury had possessed earlier was long gone. She looked like a raggamuffin with her messy untied hair, mud stained dress, and careless posture. 

“Fine,” Enola conceded. “My mother left me without warning, and my brothers came to whisk me away to boarding school because they, one: don’t have time for me, and two: believe I haven’t “gotten a proper education fit for today’s society.” Enola paused, considering how to explain in the best possible way with the least possible information spilling. “I didn’t like the idea of that, and in my searching for my mother I happened upon a set of clues she hid on the whereabouts of her location. I duped my brothers, stealing away in a set of their old clothes, and now Sherlock is likely on my tail; which is annoying because I wished he’d just _help_ me, but we can’t all have what we want, now can we.”

“There,” Enola sighed into the fire. “Satisfied?”

“Sherlock Holmes is your brother?”

“Yes,” Enola rolled her eyes. _That’s seriously what she got out of this? Why did I even bother._

“And your mother left you clues to her whereabouts?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t consult your famous slooth of a brother? Maybe try and talk it out with him? I’m sure he wants to find your mother as much as you do - ” There was no malice in Tewksbury’s voice, but the questioning was too much for Enola. It was all too close, the entire mess of nonsense wasn’t even 24 hours old. She interrupted Tewksbury:

“Don’t you think I tried? They wouldn’t listen to me! Sherlock, as brilliant as he is, has never been much of one for confrontation, and all Mycroft wants is to do away with me so he can go back to his cushy government position! So now I’m here, “running away” as you put it.” Enola dropped her kebab stick and leaned over, hugging her knees. In a quieter voice she said, “It’s not like I didn’t try.”

“Look - I - sorry. That must all be very disconcerting. I wasn’t trying to... I wasn’t trying to make you upset.” Enola glanced at Tewksbury over her folded arms. The girl was shifting anxiously, as if trying to decide where to go next. 

“What boarding school?” Tewksbury asked abruptly. _Well that’s not what I was expecting,_ thought Enola. _Nice change of subject though._ She grimaced inwardly; had she really just broken down in front of a stranger? It was rare for her to get so upset about things, but then again before the last day or so, there really hadn’t been a lot to get upset about. 

“Harrison Finishing School For Young Ladies. Why do you ask?”

“Ah, well that one might not be as horrible as you imagine.”

“What do you mean, “that one”?”

“I’ve been to a lot of boarding schools, and by far that’s not the worst. Anyways, on to my tale of woe?”

“Are you advocating for me to attend boarding school? Wait, how many boarding schools have you attended - ”

“Do you want to hear why I believe the evil knife man is chasing me or not?” _Well of course I do, but you just implied you’ve been kicked out of boarding school before and that’s not something I want to let go of just yet..._

“All right, yes. What’s your deal oh grand Viscount Marquess Basil-Tewksbury-Weather or whoever you are?”

Tewksbury put aside her mushrooms, perking up as if she was stepping into the spotlight. “Ehem,” she cleared her throat dramatically. _She certainly seems more_ _comfortable now,_ Enola thought snidely. 

“As you know, I am being chased by a knife murderer. What you do not know is why I am being chased by a knife murderer. Dearest companion, I also do not know why I am being chased by said knife murderer.”

“Well of course you don’t know,” Enola fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“Hush! For I am about to tell you My Tale of Woe!” Tewksbury was now standing, pacing theatrically around the fire. 

“Yes, for Christ’s sake, get on with it,” as ridiculous and annoying as it was, Enola found herself trying to control the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. This is certainly better than a few minutes ago. 

Tewksbury seemed to agree as she continued her performance, sensing Enola was up for a show. She gestured in the air like she was announcing the arrival of the Queen. “Back in my youth, my father and I were very close.”

“Ooo, dramatic backstory,” Enola half-sarcastically remarked.

Tewksbury’s eyes twinkled, she had an audience. “He taught me everything there is to know about the natural world. My father was a politician, but a botanist at heart. He had a passion for all growing things that he passed on to his only child. Yours truly, moi.”

_So that’s where your strangely encyclopedic knowledge of plants comes from. Doesn't give much reason to your penchant for theatrics though._

Tewksbury continued, emboldened by Enola’s lack of protest. “My father was a deviant man, in the political sense of the word. Our family, the Basilweathers, have long profited off of the coal industry. Being a modern man of science, my father could simply not follow through with this model. He used his position in the House of Lords to advocate for better regulation of energy producing substances in support of public health safety, and to raise awareness for the growing field of climate studies.” She paused, “His advocacy for the natural world was cut short. He was... He was killed in a robbery nearly a year ago.” 

The admission of loss sombered her momentum. _They had been close,_ Enola filed. _Like Mom and I,_ she realized with a start. 

Tewksbury clasped her hands, starting to fiddle. She seemed unsure of how to continue. “Sorry, I just- It’s only been a year.” The bravado of storytelling was falling off of her like a windblown cloak. It was apparent the death was still raw to her, even if her upbeat performance claimed it wasn’t. 

“It’s okay, I mean, well it makes sense that… God, sorry, I’m just as bad at being emotionally comforting as you it seems.”

Tewksbury snorted.

Enola figured she could only keep going, “So, you were saying…?”

Taking the opportunity, the saddened, but undefeated girl launched into the final dregs of her tale. “My father was a great man and I miss him so, though I cannot say the same for my uncle nor my grandmother. They’re more attached to the family business than actual family,” Tewksbury glowered as she made the remark. “Having my father gone has been rather beneficial for them. In order to keep it that way, they tried to whisk me off on a year of travel around Europe in hopes I’d find someone to marry who could be persuaded to take my place in the House of Lords and vote in their favor. Learning of this, combined with the impending energy reform bill, I stole away with the intent of getting to London to vote before anyone could stop me.”

“And then you were deterred by a knife murderer.”

“And then I was deterred by a knife murderer.” 

Enola tapped her fingers on the worn knee of her trousers, fabric thinned from so many years of use. “Someone doesn’t want you to vote on the reform bill.”

“Well no kidding,” Tewksbury replied indignantly.

“Someone who knows your ties to your late father and doesn’t care if you die. Tewksbury, does that rule out your grandmother and uncle?”

“I’d like to think so, but unfortunately given their reactions to my father’s death, I can’t be sure.”

“Splendid, so hostile family members?”

“Looks like we’re in the same boat.”

“Except as far as I know, mine don’t actually want me dead.”

“Is boarding school not a death sentence?”

“As far as you’re concerned, no.”

“Mmhm,” was all Tewksbury supplied. The girl stretched like she was some sort of disgruntled cat, then said, “Well, this is a jolly load of terrible circumstances. I’m going to turn in, goodnight Enola.” She lay down next to the fading fire and curled in, facing the glowing embers. 

  
_Not going to get anywhere else with her,_ Enola concluded. She followed Tewksbury’s lead and settled down next to the dying fire. Sleeping on the ground wasn’t preferable, but Enola could manage. She fidgeted to get comfortable, twisting to lay on her back. Enola pulled her coat tight, hugging herself, trying to keep in the warmth. The sky had become a vast purple sea of stars, and she drifted off to sleep as she counted the constellations in its depths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh mid terms are finally over and I spent maybe too much of my time writing this fic when I should have been studying lmao... please accept this update, I learned way too much about the plant life of england for no one to read this. also this fic will now be seven chapters? (I finally made an outline and confronted the reality that is plot).
> 
> it is a well known fact that ao3 authors eat comments as snacks at tea time, so if you're up to it I would greatly appreciate one :)
> 
> thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!! <3


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